


and everything is soft again

by trash_mammall



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Baking, Bonding, Comfort, Fluff, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Insomnia, Late Night Conversations, Solidarity, Understanding, dadvid, its just them being chill, lowkey tho, theres essentially no unhappiness in this im not kidding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 04:47:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17073746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trash_mammall/pseuds/trash_mammall
Summary: Max can't sleep, so he plans on getting a snack from the Mess Hall before he heads to the docks. But derails that plan, and the night is spent in a far better fashion.





	and everything is soft again

Max hadn’t been able to fall asleep.

It wasn’t all that surprising, really. He had been known to go on walks under the billions of stars, path painted by silver light and shifting shadows. So when he decided tossing under scratchy blankets was no longer worth his time, he figured he’d go get a snack from the Mess Hall.

He couldn’t remember if he’d actually eaten dinner that evening, nor could he remember if it had been edible in the first place, so he figured he was simply hungry. A painless fix, one that hopefully wouldn’t take long if past experience was anything to go by.

Max watched his feet disturb the blades of grass, each step leaving indents that reflected the moon’s gaze. Hands stuffed in his front pocket, the floating summer breeze allowing his hoodie to be appropriate attire for once, he let himself be led by muscle memory to the double doors he’d entered countless times.

Max had been planning on something simple, maybe a pudding cup or a box of crackers to snatch before making his way down to the lake. It was a routine he’d done before, his tendency to haphazardly place the blame of his insomnia on his neglect to eat being somewhat of a recurrence, so he knew it would be easy.

Or, it _should_ have been easy.

But when he opened the front door, he heard the ringing of metal bowls clanging together, and his entire body jolted.

His hand flew up to his mouth.

He took a step back, clumsy and reflexive.

A fully body flinch he couldn’t help but wince at, thinking it stupid to have such a reaction at a place like this, before forcing his muscles to relax.

His initial goal was to remain invisible, allow whoever was in there to continue an existence oblivious to his arrival, but childish curiosity tugged at him. Something in him said fuck the snacks, he could just sit by the lake until he dozed off on dewing sand, but there was something bigger in him demanding he take a closer look.

Take a step forward, and see what would come of it.

A new part of him whispered that Nikki was a bad influence, but he shook it off.

Nikki would be proud.

From where the person was knelt in the kitchen, rummaging around in a cupboard or drawer, Max couldn’t spot them. But, as he ventured closer to the window in the back, he started hearing mumbling, something almost intelligible. It was only until he was leaning against the wooden wall between the main area and the kitchen that Max could make out actual words, half-hearted and drowsy irritation coated with playfulness.

“Gwen, how do you _continue_ to find these chocolate chips? It’s like she can sense them, I swear.” Max could nearly hear the smile shaping the gentle chiding, and it sent a nauseating rush of familiarity over him.

He couldn’t tell if the involuntary wave of queasiness was negative or not, he didn’t care enough to look into it, but he knew that feeling. He knew that _voice._

This wasn’t going to be as easy as he’d planned.

He then _truly_ considered leaving, considered turning around and succumbing to a few hours by the water without food, but then he heard more rustling and that curiosity pulled at his sleeve again. It demanded to know what was happening, and so he hopped up on his toes to peak over the separator.

The kitchen counter displayed various ingredients definitely meant to be used for baking, David standing up and adding a bag of flour to the array. Max hadn’t baked before, but he wasn’t a dumbass – he could tell when someone was about to start an entire batch of whatever the fuck David was making in the middle of the night.

Along with the flour, David placed a large bowl on the end of the counter next to assorted kitchen appliances. Max hissed at the reverberation of metal against the small counter space, hands reflexively covering his ears, only to kneel down in a start as David turned around at the gritted inhalation. Hunched below the edge of the divider, Max hoped he hadn’t been spotted.

Hell, he might have even prayed.

He knew he wasn’t supposed to be awake, let alone out of his tent, and while typically he wouldn’t have cared about breaking the rules, his mind was lethargic. Assumption cycled back to passive aggressive comments, silence, a nothingness he was conditioned to expect as punishment despite being away from home.

Despite the fact this was David.

“Max, what are you doing up?”

Max felt his shoulders tense as he glanced above him, seeing David leaning over the small edge of the window into the kitchen. His brows were taught, but Max couldn’t find any anger directed his way. If anything, David just seemed to hold worry in his features, laced with a soft type of fatigue that only came with reoccurring all-nighters.

Max straightened up, shoving his fists into his pocket and shrugging, brushing off the lingering edge of anxiety in his chest. “Couldn’t sleep. I could ask you the same question, though. What the fuck are you doing with ingredients in the middle of the night?”

David huffed out a laugh, looking back at what he’d gathered out of cupboards and the pantry in amusement. “I couldn’t sleep either; thought cookies would be a nice surprise for Gwen and you campers.”

He shrugged a shoulder, smirking in Max’s direction before transferring the first ingredients and the required appliances over to the only other section of free counter space available pressed against the divider. Max let out a breath, throwing himself back into his typical mannerisms with an unimpressed quirk of an eyebrow.

He pushed open the door to the kitchen, leaning against the wall and watching David pause from measuring out a cup of flour.

“Why are you doing this?” His voice feigned unamusement in its questioning.

However, it apparently had little punch and instead made David smile down at him, as if the tone was endearing. Max bristled at that, though he couldn’t deny to himself that it was calming, such attention given in response to his presence.

He tried not to think about that.

“Well, Gwen’s feeling under the weather, and you campers deserve something nice!” David’s voice held a genuine caring that elicited a heavy eye roll from Max.

“We literally almost killed QM the other day.”

“True, but you all showed incredible teamwork!”  
“We tried to set Nikki on fire again.”

“Showing great perseverance and determination to complete a goal!”

“That’s fucking dumb, David.”

David huffed, dumping a half-teaspoon of salt in with the flour before looking down at Max, who matched the eyecontact with a colder stare. He placed down the salt and teaspoon, silent for a moment before giving Max a small smile.

 _Caring_ , Max’s mind provided.

“Have you ever baked, Max?”

Max’s brows furrowed, letting out a confused grunt. “No? I haven’t? I don’t see how that matters?”

David grinned brighter, disappearing in the pantry for an instant before returning with a small step stool. Max glared down at it, an eyebrow raised and arms crossed.

“You said you couldn’t sleep anyway, right? And hey, maybe you’ll enjoy it!”

Max stared down at the stool in silence, mulling over his options, and he reasoned David would send him back to his tent if he didn’t agree to help. He reasoned there was no point in saying no, because if he did he would just be forced to spend the next several hours lying in a tent, or alone on the dock.

At least this way he could eat the batter.

As soon as Max pushed the stool closer to the counter with the bowl, half filled with dry ingredients, David let out a chirp of excitement. Max would have told him to shut up, say it was no big deal or that David was being dumb, but instead his eyes were going over the worn recipe in front of him.

And he found himself completely lost.

The next hour was spent with David teaching Max how baking worked. He helped small hands measure out baking soda, and guided Max through cracking an egg. It would have gone faster had Max not been there, they both knew that, but it wouldn’t have been the same.

Eventually, as the batter was being given a final mix by David, to fully distribute the chocolate chips, and Max had just finished relocating the ingredients back into the pantry, Max pulled himself up onto the counter top. Kicking his legs idly, watching as his untied laces swayed in the air, Max couldn’t help but bask in the solace of it all.

The first batch of cookie dough was being dished out onto a tray.

Max was holding back a grin as David turned around just in time to watch his batter covered-finger disappear into his mouth.

The room was silent save for the humming of David and the whirr of the oven.

Max would have thought something like this, something so utterly cliché and _David_ , would have made him sick. He’d always suspected baking to be out of his territory, too much measuring and too little space for error, but he’d enjoyed it.

Maybe saying he’d agreed to bake simply because he didn’t want to be cast back into his tent was incorrect. After all, he knew David wouldn’t force him to stay in bed; he hadn’t done so the few previous nights the two had run into each other, anyway.

Maybe he’d agreed to bake because he’d actually _wanted_ to do it.

Was that so hard to admit?  
He let out a sigh.

Apparently it was.

David dipped a spoon in the batter, placing it in his mouth in quiet contemplation. Max knew that look, knew when David wanted to ask a question but was trying to figure out a way to formulate it. It was typically more exaggerated out of desperation and anxiety brought on by chaotic campers. Now it was all round edges and the slow tapping of a utensil on lips.

“Max, do you often have trouble sleeping?”

Max huffed, smirking and toeing off his sneakers out of complacent boredom, watching them fall to the ground below him.

“David you’ve _seen_ me out of bed before, you know the answer. It’s not a big deal.”

Shaking a head, David took out a second baking tray and began laying out another batch.

“I’ve only seen you out of bed a few times, I never knew it was so recurring. If I’d known, I would have talked to you about it.” David’s voice was laced with something parental, something alien to Max’s ears.

He didn’t know how to gauge David’s mood, or how he was supposed to reply.

“I mean, it’s something I’m used to. Not sure what talking to me would do to help, David. It’s not something you can just _fix,_ especially not through an attempted heart-to-heart, y’know?”

David let out a snort, and Max lifted an eyebrow.

“The fuck are you giggling about?”

David didn’t look up at Max, instead focusing on the balls of cookie dough in front of him.

“I wasn’t going to try to _fix_ it, Max. I was going to offer we keep each other _company._ ” At Max’s confused silence, David continued, “I don’t get a lot of sleep either. I often find myself restless, so instead I spend all night doing paperwork or reading until I fall asleep wherever I happen to be. I wouldn’t mind spending time with you until you’re able to doze off, too.”

Max scoffed, rolling his eyes and mumbling, “God, I’d rather die than spend all night with you.”

But David just made that same smile again, and Max let out an angry huff.

“Stop making that face, it’s fucking annoying.”

David simply shrugged, silencing his phone just as the alarm demanded he take the first batch out of the oven. “The offer’s just out there, kiddo.”

Max didn’t reply, didn’t know how to. He just nodded, eyes trained on the shoes tipped over on the hardwood.

After a moment of silence, David placing the second batch of cookies into the oven and starting the timer on his phone, Max looked at David in question.

“Do you always bake in the middle of the night?”

The drowsiness in his voice was ill hidden, and David smirked at the growing exhaustion in Max’s eyes.

He didn’t comment on it, however, instead replying, “I’ve always baked to help me relax. I don’t normally do it at camp because we never have the right ingredients, but at home I tend to bake after night terrors. So, yeah, I guess I do.”

Max watched David scoop out the final few balls of dough for cookies, before being handed a spoon. As David used his own spoon to scrape some of the remaining batter from the bowl, Max kicked his legs, unable to shake away a new nagging at the back of his head.

“Night terrors?”

David’s brows shot up, eyes darting to meet Max’s as if he hadn’t realized what he’d said.

“Oh,” he started, unsure, gaze lowering, “I guess I just let that slip, eh?” He flashed an anxious smile, and suddenly Max could see the bags under David’s eyes, the show of restless nights and early mornings. “I just get a lot of bad dreams is all, Max.”

David took a breath, some level of taught nerves melting from his smile, now small and soft, but Max simply stared.

He watched fatigue swirl in the green eyes he had come to associate with an endless supply of energy. He saw something other than optimism, the kind of lines around the face that came with growing up far too quickly.

“Are you… okay?”

David’s smile seemed to change, though it remained the same size. It seemed to hold melancholy memories Max had never known about, nor the rest of the campers. He had grown to understand David more over the several weeks they’d been at camp this past year, but this was new.

He didn’t know what this meant.

And that ignorance?

It sent something uncharacteristically concerned through him.

“I made a mistake a long time ago, Max, and I lost someone very close to me. I’ve made a lot of mistakes across the years, and I’ve changed since then, learned from those experiences, but it still keeps me up sometimes. That’s all, bud. It’s nothing for you to worry about.”

Max nodded, and, suspecting David wouldn’t want to continue talking about it, he dropped the subject. Instead of talking, he favoured the bowl of cookie dough remains, and began scooping out what he could with the spoon given to him. With a mouthful of batter, and the alarm on David’s phone ringing to signal the end of second batch’s time in the oven and beginning of the final tray’s baking time, Max let himself smile.

He let himself have this.

He reached over the now cleaned out bowl and grabbed a cookie that had come from the first batch. David watched as Max bit into it, savouring the still warm insides as if he’d never had homemade cookies before.

And, Max supposed, maybe he hadn’t.

He chewed slowly, holding the cookie with both hands and sighing in contentment. In the silence, Max could hear crickets chirping and an owl hooting through the open windows, and he lazily wondered what time it was.

Just as he was checking the time on David’s phone, David spoke up.

“Do your parents bake for you, Max?” It was hesitant, tired, but it held an air that Max had heard in previous questions from forgettable people.

The real question wasn’t being asked here, wasn’t dared to be breached out of fear.

Had he been more awake, he might have challenged that topic.

He might have asked why David didn’t just admit that what Max said about his parents was accurate.

However, as it was, he didn’t have the energy to call anyone out.

“Nah, I don’t think they’ve ever baked for me.”

Max’s eyes were drooping, and he realized that his reply hadn’t held much emotion in it. It hadn’t held much of _anything_ in it. That wasn’t what he’d planned, but maybe apathy was the most accurate reaction he could have to such a subject.

Glancing up, Max saw David frowning.

“They’ve never made you cookies? Or brownies? Nothing?”

Max simply shook his head and lowered his eyes, not bothering to use words.

He nibbled on the cookie, consuming it with a learned patience.

David huffed, but the hint of irritation disappeared from his stance just as fast as it had shown itself, and instead David put a gentle hand on Max’s shoulder.

“I think you should head back to your tent,” he recommended softly, the smile on his face audible in his words, allowing Max to picture it without looking.

Max shook his head again. “I’m fine. Besides, the cookies aren’t done yet. We can’t leave them.”

David chuckled lightly, before breaking into a yawn and stretching his arms over his head. It was obvious they were both exhausted, but David _did_ have to stay with the cookies, and it seemed Max wasn’t going to go to bed until they were done.

After a few minutes of lethargic silence, David broke the void between nature’s rustling in the early morning hours with a soft statement.

A statement woven together with the scent of freshly baked cookies and a mutual grogginess that allowed for honestly to raise from the depths of tenderness.

“Max?”

A hum in response.

“I’m proud of you, and I hope you know I’m happy to have you here at camp.”

* * *

When Max was finally conscious of his surroundings again, he was lying under scratchy blankets. The cot was rough beneath him, and Mr. HoneyNuts was held closely to his chest. His mouth tasted of chocolate chip cookies, his shoes were left on the floor of his tent, and beside him was a plate of cookies awaiting three eager mouths.

The memories of the night before danced by his mind, fuzzy and warm in their domesticity. It was a stark contrast, he noted, to the typical aggravation he felt clawing under his skin after spending the night by foggy waters.

And, he supposed, perhaps spending sleepless nights with David wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed 3k words of nothing but comfort. I think there are too many angst fics out here and we all deserve a little bit of fluff, so if I have to populate this fandom with pure bonding singlehandedly, then I will.
> 
> thank you so much for reading!
> 
> until next time
> 
> tumblr: trash_mammall


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